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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26191876">wingless and wide eyed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_katara/pseuds/artimiscrock'>artimiscrock (e_katara)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Inspired by The Fall of Icarus (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore), M/M, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Too Many Metaphors, i don't know how tags work. sincerest apologies., starts off focused on nicky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:14:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26191876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_katara/pseuds/artimiscrock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When he finally sleeps, he dreams of flying. Of warm, glittering brown eyes. They're familiar and beautiful, and he drifts towards them, transfixed. And suddenly, he's falling, drowning, but there's no water. He is being engulfed in sand.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>alright so this is a kind of writing that is really experimental for me so forgive me if it's rough! i'm pretty rusty in general, especially with prose, but i tried. this is mostly unbetaed and minimally edited.</p><p>title from icarus by yasthiel-mikhail devraj. i went through a lot of poetry about icarus to find a good title and man let me tell you there's a lot of really great stuff, but this one is the one that spoke to me and felt fitting for this fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yusuf leaves him in Cairo. He tracks down a merchant who understands Genoese for Nicolo to work with before he leaves, and then he vanishes into the bustling city. The merchant offers Nicolo a job on his ship for his upcoming voyage to Venice, and Nicolo accepts. What else is he to do? Everything he believes - or rather, believed - in, everything he has ever been taught has been called into question. He knows nothing. Not himself, not other people, not the world or good or evil nor even God. The only things he knows with any certainty are these; The first is that Yusuf is undoubtedly the best man he has ever known - on their journey, he had shown Nicolo far more patience and kindness than he deserved, after what he's done. Even his final act before they parted, finding someone Nicolo could speak to, could travel with safely, was a kindness. The second thing he knows is that he and Yusuf are bound together somehow. Despite this separation, they will meet again. And, finally, he knows that he does not deserve a fate entwined with Yusuf's. That is a gift that he will never be worthy of, but one he has received all the same. He has no idea what to do with any of this, with himself, with eternity stretching before him. A boat seems as good a place as any to begin. </p><p>He finds that he enjoys life aboard the ship. It is honest work, and he realizes that he enjoys spending time with sailors more than he ever did soldiers and priests. They're friendly people - they laugh and swap stories and play games and drink and even though he doesn't contribute much, they happily accept him as a part of their community. Ironically, he feels steadier on his feet on this swaying ship than he has since he awoke from his first death. The routine is easy, and it allows him to clear his mind and to consider what to do with himself, with his - he hesitates to call it a gift. His new ability, perhaps. To rise from death. And the conclusion that he comes to is a simple one. Good. He will do good.</p><p>Unfortunately, even though the answer is simple, the execution is not. He no longer knows what good is, not really. He doesn't trust his own instincts. So he decides that before he can really do good, he has to learn. Not from books or scholars or priests. He doesn't want an education in the esoteric, he wants to know people, learn about cultures other than his own, to understand the world in practice rather than theory.</p><p>He spends the next few years traveling, spending more time at sea than on dry land. It's an easy place to disappear, and he's glad of the anonymity. The transient nature of crewmen means that Nicolo gets to meet people from places he's never been to, never even heard of. He learns quickly that there is very little that a sailor loves more than a good story. Tales of lost loves, of families torn apart and reunited, of gods and of monsters. It is often hard to be sure if they are fact or fiction, especially because exaggeration is another of a sailor's favorite pastimes. He himself has no stories he cares to share, so he spends his time listening. This is how he learns. Perhaps some of the stories are false, but they give him insight into the people telling them - their values, their cultures, their beliefs. He knows he is still ignorant, but he feels that he knows more now than he ever did in his first life.</p><p>He has been on this particular ship for maybe a week, on its way to Alexandria. There is another mercenary aboard the ship, Alastair. He's a short Greek man with round, ruddy cheeks, an easy smile, and a loose tongue. Stories spill from his lips constantly, mostly tales from the Greek myths. Nicolo quite likes these, intrigued by the drama and the interconnectedness of the pantheon of Greek gods. Over dinner one night, Alastair draws quite a crowd as he tells the tale of Icarus. </p><p>A king trapped a man - Icarus - and his father in a tower. His father, a craftsman, carefully constructed wings for the pair of them to escape, using wax and feathers. He gave Icarus his wings with a warning. If he flew too low, the feathers would grow too heavy with water from the sea and he would not be able to fly. Too high, and the heat of the sun would melt the wax, and he would fall from the sky. Icarus didn't heed his father's warnings, was too drawn in by the sun's warmth and beauty. His wax wings melted, and he fell into the sea.</p><p>Nicolo feels a lump in his throat at this. He does not know why.</p><p>Another crewman chimes in, telling that in the version of the story he'd been told, the reason Icarus kept flying higher was that he had fallen in love with Apollo, the god of the sun, and he yearned to be with his love, so much so that he had forgotten his father's instructions altogether.</p><p>He feels as though he can't breathe. He still does not understand why.</p><p>Yet another man wonders aloud if perhaps Apollo had allowed the wax to melt intentionally, if he had not returned Icarus's feelings.</p><p>Nicolo rushes to the deck of the ship and loses his supper over the edge.</p><p>When he returns to the table, Alastair slaps him heartily on the back and asks if he had been celebrating Dionysus a little too much that night. He offers a weak smile in return and waits for the meal to be finished. Then, he finds his bedroll and lays down, willing himself to forget the story. When he finally sleeps, he dreams of flying. Of warm, glittering brown eyes. They feel familiar, welcoming, and he moves towards them, transfixed. And suddenly, he's falling, drowning, but there's no water. He is being engulfed in sand.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Yusuf turns again he sees Nicolo and his eyes are glittering and bright and full of laughter and Nicolo feels like he is staring into the sun and he is reminded of the feeling of falling, of drowning in sand and he forces himself to remember how to breathe.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is largely unbetaed and minimally edited, as always, so be gentle with me. also, shoutout to @alkaysani on tumblr whose birthday was yesterday and who lets me gush about these two a lot. they're very kind and fun and also a super talented writer!! so this chapter is in part dedicated to them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's been years since he's spent so long with his feet on solid ground. After disembarking from his latest trip, he had initially planned on taking another job aboard a ship, but Alastair had mentioned that he had a friend who would be in need of some competent guards in a few weeks' time. Apparently, the job was difficult, meaning the pay would be excellent. Nicolo had agreed - in retrospect, this may have been his first mistake.</p><p> </p><p>It is two days before the caravan leaves, and Alastair is guiding him to a tavern. They're set to meet the men they'll be working with, to have a few drinks and a meal and get to know each other. The tavern is a big, warm room filled with laughter and delicious smells. Alastair calls out to the proprietor, apparently a friend of his, who gives him a smile and a nod in acknowledgement. Nicolo follows Alastair to a few tables in the corner that are particularly loud. Most of them seem to be focused on one man, telling a story and gesticulating wildly.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo can't move.</p><p> </p><p>He knows that voice. Would know it anywhere. He had grown familiar with it in whispered threats with a blade at his throat. Then, he'd heard exhausted requests for a truce. Tense, frustrated attempts to communicate. Pained, furious yelling. Hoarse sobs. Quiet, polite, efficient communication. And, finally, he had heard it say a quiet goodbye. He has never heard it like this, though, loud and warm and full of laughter, telling a story about a fight with a crocodile that has the crowd entranced.</p><p> </p><p>He turns, spots Nicolo, and freezes for a moment. A million emotions seem to chase each other across his face, too fast to make sense of, before he offers a smile that doesn't entirely meet his eyes and invites him and Alastair to sit. He gets back to his story, his voice is just the slightest bit thinner - something Nicolo is certain only he notices, because he is sure that none of these men know Yusuf as he does - but he follows it through to the end. Then, he falls quiet, and Alastair steps up to fill the space with the tale of Hephaistos. The man seated next to Yusuf whispers something to him and Yusuf smiles, the slight tension that had entered his shoulders when he'd spotted Nicolo melting away. The two of them speak very familiarly, though Nicolo is not sure why he notices that.</p><p> </p><p>Some time later, once most of the men are either drunk or well on their way there, Yusuf excuses himself from the table. He makes brief eye contact with Nicolo and walks out of the tavern. He catches his meaning and waits a few moments before following.</p><p> </p><p>"Nicolo," Yusuf says. He offers a wary smile, waiting for a response.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo takes a deep breath. He has a hard time meeting his gaze, still so wracked with guilt, but he forces himself to make eye contact and tries to smile in return, though he worries it may look more like a grimace. "Yusuf."</p><p> </p><p>"You look well."</p><p> </p><p>"As do you," he responds, letting go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. There are a million things he wants to say, questions he wants to ask, but if he has learned anything these past few years, it is to choose his words carefully.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you-"</p><p> </p><p>"Should I-"</p><p> </p><p>They both break off. Yusuf chuckles, a little nervously, and gestures for Nicolo to speak.</p><p> </p><p>"I can turn down the job, if you would be more comfortable that way," he says, voice soft.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf's smile loses it's fearful edge, growing slightly kinder. "If you take no issue with traveling with me, I see no reason you should not take the job. We can work separate shifts. We will hardly even need to speak."</p><p> </p><p>That is... not what Nicolo was expecting to hear. He had been preparing for yelling or sneering, perhaps contempt. It's no less than he would deserve. But of course, Yusuf is still fundamentally a kind man, in all things.</p><p> </p><p>A kind man who is currently watching him with a thoroughly confused look on his face. Nicolo's face flushes under his gaze, and goes warmer still as he realizes that he has been standing in complete silence for several minutes now.</p><p> </p><p>"That sounds..." Nicolo begins, then trails off. He hadn't been prepared for this gentle civility. He's happy, of course, though Yusuf's earnest insistence that they needn't speak to each other stings in a way he is choosing not to think about. "If my presence will not bring you discomfort, I think I would like to accept this job," he finishes, awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf smiles and gives him a firm nod before returning to the tavern. Nicolo remains outside for a moment. Maybe it's better that they don't speak, actually. Yusuf is far too good a man, and Nicolo may be better than he was when they last met, but he still could not hope to be worthy of spending time so close to him. He goes back inside, takes his seat next to Alastair, and listens to someone who is bragging about the time he hunted a lion. The man's friend elbows him, tells the group about how he had actually fled, screaming, and everyone laughs. Nicolo can pick Yusuf's laughter out of the crowd with disconcerting ease.</p><p> </p><p>He watches as the man Yusuf had been speaking with earlier reaches out and touches his shoulder gently. They stand up and he follows the man out of the tavern towards the nearby inn. Their shoulders brush and Nicolo feels like he's burning, another feeling he is carefully avoiding thinking about. Alastair, who apparently knows everyone, asks how he met Yusuf. Nicolo gives a vague response about traveling along the same road. then asks about his friend. Apparently, his name is Oliver. He's a Christian merchant's son from France who took up work as a mercenary not too long ago and quickly gained an excellent reputation. Nicolo takes a long drink of his beer and settles in, letting his mind drift as the conversations continue around him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There's a loud, high pitched scream.</p><p> </p><p>Adrenaline rushes through his veins as he rushes towards the sound, hand on the hilt of his sword. He turns the corner, ready for a fight, but no one seems alarmed. He looks around to find the source, confused.</p><p> </p><p>The voice comes again, only it's not screaming. It's giggling. He turns towards it and -</p><p> </p><p>And.</p><p> </p><p>And his mind freezes, for a moment, because he sees Yusuf holding a little girl, no older than five, on his shoulders. She's clinging to his head for dear life as he turns around and around, loudly wondering where she could possibly have run off to.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf wanders over to the man he'd left the tavern with last night - Oliver - and asks him if he's seen the child. He coaches his face into a deadly serious expression as the little girl delightedly shushes him and offers Yusuf a blank shrug, though his eyes are smiling. Yusuf then asks a woman who must be the girl's mother, who smiles broadly and tells him she hasn't seen anything at all.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo's heart clenches - it's been a very long time since Nicolo has been around anything even remotely resembling family. This moment is overflowing with a sort of comfort and joy he hasn't felt since the day he died. Probably since well before that, actually.</p><p> </p><p>When Yusuf turns again he sees Nicolo and his eyes are glittering and bright and full of laughter and Nicolo feels like he is staring into the sun and he is reminded of the feeling of falling, of drowning in sand, and he forces himself to remember how to breathe. Yusuf asks him if he's seen a lovely little girl hiding anywhere, and Nicolo can't stop himself from looking up at the girl with a helpless, fond smile on his face. Yusuf follows his gaze, looking up and feigning shock at seeing her laughing down at him, then grabs her and lowers her to the ground. He asks how she managed to hide up there and she laughs and points at him. He tells her that it is a ridiculous accusation, and he will be having words with her mother. She grabs his hand and starts to drag him away, Yusuf glances over his shoulder and levels Nicolo with one final, perplexed look before following the girl over to where her mother has been watching him, looking utterly besotted. He looks over at Oliver and sees a similar one. He wonders what his own face must look like when he sees Yusuf.</p><p> </p><p>He turns away, finding Alastair not far off, carrying both of their gear, ready to join the caravan.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i just desperately needed yusuf interacting with a kid. i don't know what else to say here but uhh.. comments, questions, critiques, etc are always appreciated!! i'm also on tumblr with the same username, if you're interested, and i'm always down to talk about these two</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Good is not a thing you are, Nicolo. It is a thing you do. A decision you make. And if you decide that you can never be good, then you will, of course, be correct."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, unbetaed and barely edited,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Is it Yusuf you watch, or Oliver?"</p><p> </p><p>The caravan has made camp for the night, and Alastair and Nicolo are sitting by one of the small fires set up around the area. The sun has not quite dropped below the horizon, but the warmth of the fire is a comfort nevertheless. Nicolo considers, briefly, feigning ignorance at the question. He knows where this conversation will end, and it's one he has avoided having with anyone for five years. But Alastair is an astute man, and a stubborn one. He will know if Nicolo attempts to lie, and he will continue prodding until he gets an answer.</p><p> </p><p>"Yusuf," he sighs.</p><p> </p><p>Alastair watches him carefully, cautiously. "You needn't explain to me if you would prefer not to, but I can see something weighing heavily on your mind, friend."</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo watches the flames, gathering his courage, before he whispers, "I have done terrible things."</p><p> </p><p>"We have all done terrible things, Nicolo," his friend says, gently.</p><p> </p><p>"Not like this. Not…" he breaks off, his throat tight. "I fought in the invasion of Jerusalem," he says, his voice carefully measured. "That is where I met Yusuf. I hurt - killed - innocent people. They were only defending themselves, and we… We wrapped ourselves up in righteousness, in our supposedly holy conquest, but we were monsters. Demons. But Yusuf and I managed to abandon the fight." Nicolo's stops for a moment, throat tight and eyes wet. His fists are clenched so tight that his nails are digging into his palms harshly enough to draw blood. If he loosens his grip just a bit, the wounds will heal over quickly. He tightens it further instead.</p><p> </p><p>Alastair is silent, his face and solemn, eyes thoughtful. Nicolo cannot tell what he is thinking, but there's no going back after what he's confessed, so he swallows harshly and continues.</p><p> </p><p>"We decided to go to Cairo. We… We did not get along. I was so arrogant, so cruel, even after we began traveling together. I - I pushed him. I did not know what to do, how to feel, I was lost and hurt and I did not want to hurt alone, so I hurt him. And still, he traveled with me, treated me with far more courtesy than I deserved. I have done things for which I can never hope to be forgiven," he finishes, voice soft. "There is blood on my hands, that will remain until the day I die. To see him again is to be reminded of the evil I have done. The pain I have inflicted on good, kind, innocent men."</p><p> </p><p>"Ah," Alastair begins. He seems to be considering Nicolo carefully, figuring out how to respond. "I confess, I do not know exactly what to say. That is certainly far worse than I would have expected of you."</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo chuckles, but the sound is hollow. If nothing else, he appreciates the man's candor.</p><p> </p><p>"I've neither absolution nor consolation to offer you. These things will be with you for the rest of your life, and they should be."</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo nods. "Seeing Yusuf again has reminded me of all of the things I have been, and all the things I can never be."</p><p> </p><p>"Never is a very strong word. You are still a young man, with a long life ahead of you," Alastair says, and Nicolo grimaces, "You cannot change who you have been in the past, or what you have done. But you can decide who you are and who you will be."</p><p> </p><p>"Perhaps," he allows. "But I will never be able to be good."</p><p> </p><p>"Good is not a thing you are, Nicolo. It is a thing you do. A decision you make. And if you decide that you can never be good, then you will, of course, be correct."</p><p> </p><p>He contemplates this. "This is the first time I have spoken the words aloud," Nicolo admits, voice far weaker than he would like. "It is also the closest I have come to giving confessional in all this time."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm no priest," Alastair responds with a wry grin.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo asks, "Do you think differently of me, now?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," he says simply.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah."</p><p> </p><p>"I think differently of the man you were, of course. You knew I would. As you said, you have done terrible things," Alastair says, and Nicolo hangs his head, bracing himself for the worst. "But I do know that you have a good heart. And I know that you have potential to do good in this world. Your slate cannot be wiped clean, true. But if that is your primary concern, then you are a far more selfish man than I thought."</p><p> </p><p>"What?" Nicolo asks, looking at him blankly. He can't imagine how wanting to right his wrongs could be called selfish.</p><p> </p><p>"If you only want to do good to alleviate your guilty conscience, that is an entirely selfish act. It means your primary concern is your own self image. Some things truly can never be forgiven. Therefore, you should not be motivated by seeking forgiveness - either from your God or from anyone else - but by wanting to be a better man than you've been in the past."</p><p> </p><p>"I had never thought of it like that," Nicolo admits. "I have been lost, ever since I met Yusuf. Our fates are entwined, his and mine. I am certain of it. But he does not deserve to be subjected to the man I am."</p><p> </p><p>Alastair looks at him, thoroughly unimpressed. "So become a better man. I believe you can, and Yusuf clearly does as well."</p><p> </p><p>"How do you know that?"</p><p> </p><p>"If he did not, he would not have agreed to stay on this caravan with you."</p><p> </p><p>A fair point. Yusuf had been right that they would not need to speak to each other - in fact, he rarely even sees Yusuf, aside from when they make camp in the evening and resume their travels in the morning. Yusuf and Oliver have been staying at the back of the caravan, and Alastair and Nicolo have been assigned to the front. But even with the separation, if Yusuf had believed him a genuine danger, he would have accepted Nicolo's offer and told him not to accept the job.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, Alastair. You've given me much to think about," he says earnestly. "It is getting late. I'll take first watch. You should sleep."</p><p> </p><p>He receives a long, thoughtful look in response, before the man nods and heads off to his bed roll.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He's drowsily watching the stars when it happens. An arrow flies straight at his head, and time is almost standing still. Somehow, he senses it when a small piece of wood is tossed to him from somewhere off to his right, and he catches it and holds it in front of his face until he feels the arrow lodge itself firmly in his makeshift shield.</p><p> </p><p>"Nicolo, come," Yusuf says urgently in his ear, "and wake no one." Then he grabs the wood from his hands and using it to guard his head as he approaches their attackers, scimitar in hand.</p><p> </p><p>He does not have time to think about how Yusuf had noticed the attackers while he hadn't, nor the sound of his voice whispering in his ear, nor the shiver that ran up the back of his neck at the sound. He has his sword and is following Yusuf within moments. He remains as quiet as possible - waking people at their camp would be unwise. If either of them were to die in front of such an audience, they wouldn't be able to explain away their resurrection.</p><p> </p><p>He catches up to Yusuf just as he cuts down the archer who had fired that first arrow. They know she cannot be alone, but her accomplices are not immediately visible. He's slowly turning and finds a small man wielding a vicious looking dagger running right at Yusuf, who is facing away from him. Nicolo steps in front of the would-be attacker, getting a dagger in the arm for his trouble. He returns the favor, though, plunging his sword through the man's stomach.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf turns just in time to see the man crumble to the ground. He spots the already healing wound on Nicolo's arm and says, softly, "Thank you." His eyes snap to focus on something else, behind him. "Brace yourself," he grits out before moving forward, pushing Nicolo out of the way to handle the two very large men approaching them. He manages to take one down, but the other man is fast and strong and carrying a wicked spiked mace. He swings it and it connects with Yusuf's abdomen with a nauseating thud. It does not kill him, despite the blood dripping from the points where the spikes made contact, but it stuns him enough that the man can grab him across the chest. Yusuf's scimitar drops uselessly to the ground, and the bandit grins menacingly at Nicolo, the implication clear. Any move he makes will result in the man killing Yusuf. A half dozen bandits suddenly show up, surrounding him.</p><p> </p><p>He looks to Yusuf and sees that the wounds on his stomach are almost fully healed, and his eyes are flickering around, processing their situation. Then, he looks Nicolo dead in the eye, and Nicolo understands. He returns his sword to his belt and allows the bandits to approach. He knows Yusuf has a plan, but he does not know what it is.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf waits a few moments for them to get closer, then quickly crouches down, shifting his weight and leaning forward quickly to fling his captor over his shoulders, leaving the man flat on the ground. His friends are distracted, giving Nicolo the opportunity to draw his sword and take two of them down quickly. He rushes forward, grabbing Yusuf's scimitar to hand it to him, and they stand back to back as they prepare to deal with the last four. There's no need to speak. He somehow knows what Yusuf will do before he does it, and Yusuf knows the same of him. They dispatch the last of the bandits quickly, Nicolo utilizing wicked stabbing motions whereas Yusuf is more efficient, quicker. More merciful, perhaps, if such a thing is possible. He slices at their thighs - the blood flows quickly from there, their deaths quick, far easier than falling to stab wounds, a fact that both Nicolo and Yusuf are quite familiar with.</p><p> </p><p>They stand, breathing heavily, eyeing the bandits that lay still at their feet. There's movement - the one who had grabbed Yusuf stands, glaring at them. Yusuf had only stunned him, and now he is preparing to take his vengeance. Nicolo feels a surge of anger, burning hot and bright, and thrusts his sword through the man's stomach. He watches, satisfied, as the man falls to the ground. He generally does not take any pleasure in violence, but something about this man has sparked an anger in him that he hasn't felt in a long time.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf looks at the man, then at Nicolo, an inscrutable expression on his face, before he takes his scimitar to the man's thigh. He's dead in a matter of seconds, a fate far kinder than he deserves.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, Yusuf," he says, meeting his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course," Yusuf smiles thinly.</p><p> </p><p>"Are we -"</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf cuts him off, "I still am not - I have many feelings about the way in which we met. What you did. My entire world was destroyed, Nicolo."</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo says nothing. There is nothing he can say, here, so he just looks at Yusuf, helpless.</p><p> </p><p>"I can see that you are trying to be a better man. That is good. But I still… I lost my world to your Crusade, and then my life to your blade. And then I came back to life, and the ground fell out from under me. You are improving yourself, but I do not have it in me to be your friend now."</p><p> </p><p>"I understand," Nicolo says. There is nothing else to say. He sees the pain in Yusuf's eyes and it hurts far worse than anything the bandits had done. He commits this moment to memory, takes in every detail of Yusuf's face and of the atmosphere of the air between them. This - this is a moment he will carry with him, always. There are many of those. The battlefield, the day he left it, strewn with bodies of innocent men. The fury on Yusuf's face the time when Nicolo had tried to condescend to him about the necessity of the Crusade in their early days. The sound of him sobbing when he thought Nicolo asleep. Things Nicolo will never let himself forget. They're echoes of the man he was. The man he needs to be better than.</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe some day," Yusuf says, quietly. The words seem to surprise even him. "It seems that our lives are to be very long, and I do not know what lies in store for us. But if it is to happen - I will need time."</p><p> </p><p>He can only nod. The two of them seem to have an infinite amount of that, and more than that, Nicolo knows he will give Yusuf anything he asks. The thought is frightening, but he knows it's true.</p><p> </p><p>"Let us return to camp. We should sleep, and I believe it is Alastair's turn to keep watch."</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf nods, walking beside him. "We will need an explanation for our torn clothing and lack of wounds."</p><p> </p><p>"The bandits were inept," Nicolo says loftily, "inexperienced. They were not prepared to fight skilled mercenaries, and could scarcely get near us. They only ever managed to catch their blades on our clothes."</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf huffs a quiet laugh, almost reluctantly. "Ah yes, of course. And all of the blood belongs to them. They were more an inconvenience than anything else, ruining a pair of perfectly good shirts."</p><p> </p><p>"I am sure if we tell our tale of woe, someone will gladly wash our shirts for us," Nicolo counters mildly. The conversation between them is easier than anything they have had before, and Nicolo realizes that he desperately wants this, someday. Just this, speaking lightly and casually with Yusuf, easy as breathing. He will wait as long as he needs, and during that time, he will try to become a better man. A man good enough to be his friend, to deserve to be by his side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yes i am going to keep kicking nicky in the teeth with responsibility for his actions. i have a lot of thoughts about redemption vs atonement and i am going to keep projecting them onto him. but it was really nice to let him and joe finally talk a little bit! and i love a good fight scene. oh! also that quote about good not being a thing you are but a thing that you do is 1000% borrowed from a ms marvel comic, and it's honestly one of my favorite quotes</p><p>comments are welcome and appreciated!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The way he knows Yusuf is strange. He's aware of that. He knows him in anger, in fear, in grief - in death. Nicolo can read tension in him in a way he knows no one else will ever be able to. But he has never known him in joy, or peace, or laughter, or comfort, and that someone else gets to have those moods of his sits heavily in his chest in a way that he is growing increasingly familiar with.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>minimally edited and only sort of beta-ed</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver seems like a good man. Nicolo would probably like him, he thinks, were it not for the fact that he absolutely hates him.</p><p> </p><p>They haven't spoken much - the boy, no older than twenty three, spends much of his time all but glued to Yusuf's side, making it near impossible for Nicolo to learn much about him. He knows that his father is a merchant, and that he was set to be one as well, before he abandoned it to become a mercenary. He knows that he is French, and good with a sword. He also knows, from the cross that hangs from his neck, that he's Christian. That is the entirety of Nicolo's knowledge of the man. From what he's seen, Oliver is friendly, kind, and generous. He seems like a good man. So Nicolo has no idea why just the sight of him makes his blood boil.</p><p> </p><p>He's currently in front of the tent he shares with Yusuf, looking at him with a broad, dopey grin on his face. It's an odd expression to see in contrast with the long, ugly gash in his leg that Yusuf is carefully cleaning and redressing. The caravan had run into a few crocodiles earlier that day, and one of them almost got a bite of Oliver before Yusuf managed to kill it. He's tending to the wound carefully, saying something in a hushed tone that makes Oliver's smile grow fonder still.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo really hates him.</p><p> </p><p>"What do you make of those two?" one of the men asks, nudging Nicolo with his elbow.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo blinks, realizing he's been staring at them for several minutes. Alastair and a couple of other men are watching him, curious.</p><p> </p><p>He decides his best bet is to feign ignorance. "What do you mean?"</p><p> </p><p>"They seem very close," the man replies, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p> </p><p>"I suppose they do," Nicolo says with a shrug. He has absolutely no desire to speak about the two of them, ever. But he especially does not want to talk about it with these people he hardly knows.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you think they're… together?" the man asks.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo is preparing to say that he does not care when Alastair, thankfully, speaks up. "I don't think that's any of our business, friend. Unless it would change how you think of them?" he says, the lilt to his voice turning ever so slightly threatening.</p><p> </p><p>The man turns almost comically pink. Alastair is a kind man, but he can be very intimidating. Everyone knows not to cross him. He starts backpedaling, eyes wide. "No, no, I just -"</p><p> </p><p>"If you truly take no issue, then I suggest we find something else to talk about."</p><p> </p><p>There's a tense moment where no one speaks, but then someone else starts talking, telling a story about a time when they almost incited a riot at a fish market by accident, and the mood shifts easily, the tension melting away. Nicolo finally chances a glance back at Yusuf, who has finished dressing Oliver's wound and is now laying down, arms crossed beneath his head as he watches the sky. He's not yet asleep, Nicolo knows, because he is intimately familiar with what Yusuf looks like in sleep. The boy is saying something to him, and he nods lazily in response. Then, he sits up for a moment and glances around the camp. Nicolo recognizes this from their journey to Cairo. He's cataloging the area, making note of where everyone is and looking for access points for attackers. It is always the last thing he does before sleeping, and it's a habit that Nicolo picked up from him. His eyes lock on Nicolo's for a moment while he surveys the area, and -</p><p> </p><p>And everything comes to a screeching halt. The whole world stops, and the past, present, and future collide. Yusuf's face cycles through a dozen emotions, and Nicolo is sure his does the same, because a million things seem to pass between them, unsaid. And Nicolo feels young and frightened and old and weary and terrified and safe, all at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf tears his eyes away, and the world starts to move again. But Nicolo can't shake the feeling that somehow, everything has changed.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, he feels exhausted. He turns to Alastair to tell him he is going to sleep. Alastair follows his lead, and as they're about to lay down, he says quietly, "For what it's worth, Nicolo, I do not believe that Oliver and Yusuf are involved."</p><p> </p><p>"It is none of my business," Nicolo replies stiffly. "The two of us are not even friends."</p><p> </p><p>Alastair says nothing, letting silence fall heavily between them.</p><p> </p><p>Several minutes later, Nicolo whispers, "They spend a great deal of time together." It's almost too quiet to be heard, and Nicolo feels smaller than he has ever felt in his life.</p><p> </p><p>"Oliver likes him very much," Alastair agrees, "but it does not seem to me that Yusuf returns his affections."</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo's brow furrows. "How do you know that?"</p><p> </p><p>"There is no way to be certain. But I have seen many people in love. Yusuf does not look, to me, like a man in love," Alastair says with a shrug.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo frowns. He is not sure he trusts Alastair's judgment, but he also does not want to speak about this further. "We should sleep."</p><p> </p><p>"An excellent idea," he replies easily. "Good night, Nicolo."</p><p> </p><p>"Good night, Alastair," he says, laying down. He falls silent for a couple of minutes, before he mutters, "And thank you."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They will arrive at their destination tomorrow. Most of the group is cheerful - it's been a long two weeks, and the idea of being able to get at least a few days' rest is a welcome relief.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo, however, does not share their enthusiasm. He knows that once they are done, Yusuf will disappear, just as he had in Cairo. He'll likely take Oliver with him - whatever the nature of their relationship, they seem close. Once he leaves, Nicolo has no idea what he'll do.</p><p> </p><p>He does know he must part ways with Alastair soon - he is a good man, a good friend, but it won't take long for him to notice that Nicolo never seems to get wounded. Such is the nature of his - gift? Curse? Ability? He still does not know what to make of this seeming immortality. The only thing he knows about it with any certainty is that it is terribly lonely. He can never stay with anyone for more than a few months, at most.</p><p> </p><p>The only person who could understand is Yusuf. Yusuf, whose presence, even if he is not speaking to Nicolo, warms him from the inside out. Yusuf, who shines like the sun, sharing warmth and light and life with everyone he comes into contact with.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf, who still sometimes flinches at the sight of him. Who needs time. Who Nicolo does not deserve to be around.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo watches with gritted teeth as Oliver laughs at something Yusuf says, leaning into him, a lot closer than seems necessary. Yusuf is smiling indulgently, an arm around the boy's shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>He's not entirely sure why it bothers him so, to see that Yusuf has a good friend. He realizes the hypocrisy - he himself has made friends, traveling companions in the time they've spent apart. And it's not as though Nicolo himself has any claim to Yusuf. They aren't even friends. But still, seeing him smile at someone so freely makes him feel as though he's swallowed a rock.</p><p> </p><p>The way he knows Yusuf is strange. He's aware of that. He knows him in anger, in fear, in grief - in death. Nicolo can read tension in him in a way he knows no one else will ever be able to. But he has never known him in joy, or peace, or laughter, or comfort, and that someone else gets to have those moods of his sits heavily in his chest in a way that he is growing increasingly familiar with.</p><p> </p><p>It twists the dagger that he sees echoes of himself in Oliver. He's studious and quiet, more content to listen than to speak. He even looks a little bit like Nicolo - slightly taller, and with lighter hair, but still, the two of them could almost be brothers. He's also Christian. That's the worst of it. He is Christian, and he and Yusuf are friends.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolo's Christianity is at the very core of why his relationship to Yusuf is in the state that it is. It is what Nicolo studied his entire life, it is what drove him to take up arms and go to war, and it is what drove him to kill innocents - to kill Yusuf. Over and over again. He is no longer sure what he believes, because those actions were certainly not Godly. And if they were - that is not a God he will follow.</p><p> </p><p>But Oliver believes in the same God. He believes in the same God whose will Nicolo believed was doing. Oliver didn't join the Crusade, doesn't have blood on his hands, and he is friends with Yusuf. And Nicolo could have been him, if -</p><p> </p><p>If he hadn't become a priest. If he hadn't gone to war. If he had listened to the dreadful feeling in his stomach before his first battle and deserted the army. If he had been a different man.</p><p> </p><p>The problem, though, is this: had he not made those choices, he never would have met Yusuf. He never would have died, and he never would have lived again. He never would have seen what he had been doing wrong, or been given the chance to do it right. He would be a different man than he is now, and he knows he would be worse. His mistakes will haunt him forever, but through them he has been given a gift - the opportunity to help people. To be a better man, and to, hopefully, be able to put more good into the world than he ever did evil.</p><p> </p><p>He knows all of this. But still, when he looks at that boy watching Yusuf with stars in his eyes, and sees Yusuf smile at him and throw his arms around him and laugh, he can't ignore the bitter taste in his mouth, because that could have been him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>uhhh idk i really like this one! early nicky is an extremely fun character because at any given moment he is experiencing no less than 8 existential crises and is only ever aware of like, 2 of them, maximum. as always, all feedback is welcome and absolutely fuels me. also, i'm on tumblr under the same name if ur interested, though i don't post a ton of tog content</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nicolo is not, generally speaking, a drinking man. He's not opposed to it, necessarily, but he doesn't much care for the feeling of being drunk.</p>
<p>Tonight, though, he is willing to make an exception.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this took me so long to figure out the right angle to approach from and i am very tired of looking at it so please forgive any messiness. minimally edited, as always. special thanks to my friends jay and daisy for letting me yell about this constantly and helping me figure out what the fuck I'm doing</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicolo is not, generally speaking, a drinking man. He's not opposed to it, necessarily, but he doesn't much care for the feeling of being drunk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tonight, though, he is willing to make an exception.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He'd awoken earlier with the knowledge that Yusuf was already gone. He's not entirely sure where his certainty had come from, considering he'd expected that Yusuf would at least wait until the afternoon to leave, so as not to raise any eyebrows, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind as he rolled out of bed that he was gone. He'd felt as though he was walking through a fog the entire day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There had been a brief reprieve - one moment of wild, desperate, devastating hope, when he had spotted Oliver in the marketplace. He was purchasing something from the baker, and Nicolo's heart had flown to his throat. If the boy was still there, then perhaps Yusuf was also… He didn't even finish putting the thought together before noticing the way Oliver was pouting. The sour purse of his lips told Nicolo everything he needed to know, and his heart dropped. His instincts had been correct. Yusuf had left.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oliver's presence had raised yet more questions about Yusuf's departure. Nicolo had thought the two of them close, and abandoning a friend wasn't something he'd thought in character for Yusuf. He had considered, briefly, asking Oliver what happened, but he quickly decided that it was probably best that he didn't know. He bought a mango and proceeded to wander the stalls, contemplating what supplies he needed to buy before he left town. A new shirt, perhaps, and some soap. He eyed the bowyer's shop thoughtfully - he's always been interested in archery, and now seems as good a time as any to learn. Directly next to the bowyer was the blacksmith, and Nicolo has been meaning to replace his whetstone for awhile now. He decided, though, that he would hold off on making any purchases today. He didn't trust his judgment at the moment, his mind still on Yusuf, on Oliver. He'd left most of his money in his room at the inn, anyways.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He'd wandered into the tavern and asked for a drink, craving the intoxication, the way alcohol blurred his thoughts around the edges. He was sitting alone, grimacing into his glass, when Alastair dropped into the seat beside him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They sat in silence for awhile, until Nicolo muttered, "Yusuf is gone." He heard the petulance in his own voice. Humiliating.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Would you like a distraction?" Alastair asked, easily. He'd become accustomed to Nicolo's mercurial temperament when it came to Yusuf.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo had nodded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That had been his first mistake of the evening.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, he's staring at the bottom of his third glass of ale. He asks for another and curses his tolerance for alcohol. He wants to be far, far drunker than he is. Perhaps, then, he would be able to ignore Alastair's most recent story. The twelve labors of Heracles. He wishes, bitterly, that the man didn't have such a talent for allegory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>To hear Alastair tell it, Heracles had been cursed by Hera, queen of Olympus, with a madness. In his mindlessness, he had slaughtered his wife and children. When he regained his mind, he was tormented by his own actions, horrified, and went to the Oracle of Delphi to seek answers as to how he might atone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo snorts. "Your subtlety is unparalleled, my friend."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alastair gives him a flat look and ignores his remark, resuming his tale.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Oracle had told Heracles that he must serve the king of Tiryns for twelve years, doing whatever was asked of him. He did not relish the task, but he followed the advice anyways. The king had given him a list of seemingly impossible tasks - ten of them. Slaying or capturing mythical creatures, performing ludicrous chores, stealing legendary relics. He completed task after grueling task, succeeding time after time. Once he'd completed his assignments, the king informed him that two of his triumphs were discounted - he'd had help from his nephew when slaying the Hydra, a monster Hera had raised specifically to kill him, and he'd accepted payment for cleaning Augeas' stable. He was given two more labors, and upon their completion, he was finally released by the king.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the story draws to a close, Nicolo gives Alastair an assessing look. Alastair mirrors him, with a slightly smug twist to his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are the tales you share always so pointed, or is receiving those a privilege exclusive to me?" Nicolo asks, eyes narrowed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alastair grins. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Bastard," Nicolo grumbles, though the insult lacks any real bite. He knows that this particular torment is, ultimately, well deserved.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alastair grabs Nicolo's shoulder, friendly and easy. "You have a lot to think about, friend. I am trying to offer stories that may help you do that. Like…" he trails off, searching for words. "Like your Christian parables. That's what the stories of the gods are, really. Lessons. Mostly, I share them for fun. But for you, Nicolo, I try to remember ones I think may be helpful."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo is, perhaps, a bit too drunk to come up with a response. He's town between gratitude and frustration. Before he can say anything, though, someone drops heavily into the seat on Alastair's other side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yusuf is gone," the newcomer announces, a perfect echo of Nicolo's earlier remark, and he desperately needs another drink, because there is only one person that could be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'd noticed," Alastair says. Nicolo swallows the rest of his ale and signals that he would like another.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oliver takes a long drink himself, bringing the glass down to the table heavily. "He did not tell me that he was leaving," he says. Nicolo still has not turned to look at him, but he can hear him pouting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm sorry to hear that," he says, as kindly as he can manage. Suddenly, the patterns in the wooden table have become terribly fascinating. He begins idly tracing his fingers over them as Alastair and Oliver talk. The alcohol has finally hit him, thankfully, because he's not sure he could stand the sound of the boy's voice otherwise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He falls quiet, letting Alastair carry the conversation with Oliver - if one could even call it a conversation. It's more of a monologue, if anything. The kid is barely letting Alastair get a word in. Nicolo half listens, mumbling responses when prompted, and lets his mind drift.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo is baffled. Yusuf spent <span>months</span> traveling with this boy. Months. Sitting here, listening him talk, Nicolo almost can't believe that. Oliver's not a bad person. Admittedly, right now, he's particularly grating, but given that he's drunk and terribly maudlin, anyone in a similar state would be equally unpleasant, if not worse. Nicolo can tell that, under different circumstances, he'd be perfectly fine company. But that's just it. He would be perfectly fine, and nothing more. He's not especially smart, or witty, or even interesting. He's also a bit self absorbed, immature, and ignorant. For Yusuf to have spent so much time with him…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo is overcome with the realization that he too is self absorbed, immature, and ignorant. He has been so caught up in his own self pity that he has not thought about the fact that Yusuf is in much the same predicament. That he traveled with Oliver for so long speaks to the fact that he, too, must be desperately lonely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That thought - that Yusuf is like him, isolated and lonely and desperate for human connection - almost knocks the wind out of his chest. He knows there are more like them, two women who he sees in dreams just as he saw Yusuf before they met. They ride together, they fight together, they fall asleep with tangled fingers and gentle smiles. They are not so painfully alone. He does not know where they are. The ice and mountains that he sees when he dreams of them are entirely unfamiliar. He hopes that, perhaps, they will find Yusuf in their travels. He does not deserve to be so alone. And maybe one day, Nicolo will be a good enough man to join them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Today is not that day, though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Today, Nicolo is realizing exactly how similar he is to the boy who is still whining about Yusuf leaving him behind. He grew up with privilege. He felt entitled to do whatever he wanted to, whatever he convinced himself was right. He felt like he could treat people however he wanted. He thought he could treat Yusuf how he wanted. And even if after realized that wasn't the case, even after he resolved to learn to be better, he was still so focused on his own desire to deserve Yusuf that he didn't consider the state Yusuf would currently be in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Nicolo is lonely, Yusuf is too. And, as nice as the thought is, the likelihood of him finding the women seems fairly low. Perhaps Nicolo deserves to be alone while he needs to learn, but Yusuf shouldn't suffer for his crimes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oliver is talking about his father, now, about how he thinks perhaps he will return to the family business. It pays well, apparently, and he will still get to travel, just without the danger. He is laughing at the irony, that he will be the one to be hiring mercenaries to guard him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo feels sick to his stomach. The ease with which this boy is regressing into the man he was before he met Yusuf, returning to the safe, comfortable, easy life he lived, the privilege he was raised in… It's all too easy for Nicolo to imagine himself doing the very same thing, had he survived the war. If Yusuf had never killed him, and he had somehow survived, he would have returned home to his own easy, comfortable life. If Nicolo had lived a different life, he would, indeed, be Oliver, and he would remain the petulant, entitled <span>child</span> he had been before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The thought disgusts him. Yusuf being forced to travel with this man out of sheer desperation for someone to talk to rips his heart in two.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His decision is made. Next time he runs into Yusuf, he decides, he will ask to stay with him. He may not be a good enough man, but he can work to become one <span>with</span> Yusuf, if he'll allow it, and Yusuf won't have to be alone. Nicolo may not be the best company, but he isn't someone that Yusuf will have to leave, have to lie to, have to make excuses with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The two of you were friends, yes?" Oliver's voice cuts through his drunken reverie. Nicolo grimaces and turns to find that Alastair has vanished and Oliver has taken his vacated seat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hmm?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oliver gives him a disgruntled look, seemingly only just realizing that Nicolo hadn't been paying attention. Nicolo wonders how long ago Alastair left, how long Oliver has been talking at him before realizing he wasn't listening at all. "You and Yusuf. You were friends?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We have a.. complicated relationship," Nicolo says, carefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yusuf told me that the two of you were friends, but you had a falling out."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo fights to keep his surprise from showing on his face. Friends? Yusuf considered them friends? Though, he supposes, it was likely just a lie to explain away the way the two of them stared at each other. "I guess you could say that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Is that the only reason you watched us?" Oliver says, with a coy smile. Or at least, Nicolo thinks that he's attempting a coy smile. He's a bit too drunk, though, his eyes slightly crossed and his lip curling in more of a sneer. He leans into Nicolo's shoulder and flutters his eyelashes. It is perhaps the least appealing thing he has ever seen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pushes the boy away as gently as he can. "I think you have had too much to drink," he says, carefully avoiding the question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pouts, eyes wide. "You don't want me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No," Nicolo replies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So you only want Yusuf," he says, suddenly accusatory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo feels his cheeks heat, and his throat is suddenly very dry. "No," he says, again, though his voice is thin and his teeth are clenched.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oliver seems on the verge of tears. "Yusuf does not want me, Alastair does not want me -" Nicolo's brows shoot up. The boy had propositioned Alastair, too? He thinks, regretfully, that he should have paid more attention. He'd have paid money to see that happen. "Even you," Oliver finishes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo has a lot of things he wants to say, but he settles on, "You're drunk, Oliver, and I have to be awake early tomorrow. I think it is time we both leave." And Oliver seems hopeful, again, somehow, so Nicolo adds, "Separately."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He crumples into the seat, and Nicolo almost feels bad, leaving him here, but he really does need have an early morning. Wasting time trying to cheer this moping, entitled child is not what he is going to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wanders out of the tavern, towards the inn where he's staying. He wanders towards his room and notices the lights on in Alastair's. Nicolo makes a decision and knocks on his door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes?" Alastair answers, rumpled, and there appears to be a woman in his bed. Nicolo apparently missed a lot in his drunken stupor, and he wants to ask about it, but he can't let himself get distracted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There is another caravan leaving for Cairo tomorrow afternoon," he says, "and I am leaving with them. I thought you deserved a proper goodbye."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alastair looks briefly surprised, but he settles on a slightly sad smile. "I will miss you, my friend. Just know that you can always call on me, if need be," he says, and Nicolo smiles, even though he knows that he can never see Alastair again. "I likely will not wake early enough to see you off," he says, glancing back at the woman in his bed. She smiles and waves a hand in greeting, and Nicolo can't fight his grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I wish I was staying long enough to hear this story," he says, "but I won't waste any more of your evening. I just wanted to say goodbye, and to wish you safe travels."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alastair winks at him, then gives him a more serious smile. "Safe travels to you, too, friend."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo cannot help but reach out to wrap Alastair in a quick embrace. He has been a good friend, and Nicolo will miss him dearly. Alastair returns the gesture, and then they separate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Goodbye," he says, finally, with a small wave to Alastair, and one more to his lady friend. He then continues to his room, just down the hall, and falls into bed. He's asleep before his head hits the pillow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicolo wakes up, bone tired and hungover, and packs his few belongings into his bags. He needs to eat and run a few errands before he leaves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stops by the baker he had seen Oliver buying from yesterday and gets a couple of loaves of bread, and then wanders over to the fruit stand. The owner looks him over, taking in his tousled appearance and the dark circles under his eyes, and hands him two bananas, shaking her head when he reaches to pay.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You look like you need it," she says, smiling kindly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's too tired to argue, otherwise he would insist on paying. So, this one time, he smiles gratefully and says a quiet "thank you," and continues on his way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He makes his way to the blacksmith and buys a whetstone, as well as a small dagger. He loves his sword, but he wants something small and quick, for tight situations where sweeping strikes aren't really possible. Then he stops at the bowyer, and has a long conversation with him to decide on a bow. Luckily, as he has been working a lot and spending very little for five years, he has enough money to purchase quality goods. He settles on the one that the bowyer assures him is the best - made from yew wood, which he purchased from a Frank trader. He speaks with him about how best to care for the weapon, and purchases a few arrows, a second string in case the one he is using breaks, and a quiver.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wanders over to the area where members of the caravan have started to congregate, turning the bow over in his hands. One of the other mercenaries approaches him, brow quirked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're an archer?" he asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Not yet," Nicolo replies, cheeks flushing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man smiles at him. "I'm Akil," he says, and something about him makes Nicolo feel unsteady on his feet. He thinks back to Oliver, last night, insinuating that he may be… interested, in men. He hasn't thought about it much before, really - he'd entered the clergy early, and taken the oath of chastity. There was no space to consider relationships, of any sort, but the way Akil's brown eyes are glittering at him makes him think that Oliver had maybe picked up on a part of him that he himself hadn't even noticed. "I'm fairly talented with a bow and arrow. I could teach you, if you like."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akil is looking at him, expectantly, and Nicolo's mind is blank. "And your name is…" he says, brows quirked, and Nicolo blushes further as he realizes he hasn't introduced himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Nicolo."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Nicolo," Akil says, as if he's testing the name. He's smiling, and Nicolo's heart is beating harder, and as he looks at Akil he notices that -</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh, no.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looks like Yusuf. Perhaps a bit younger, with shorter hair and a longer beard, but the eyes are shockingly similar, especially the lines that appear around them when he smiles. It's not an exact match, but it's close enough, and Nicolo's heart is in his stomach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The journey to Cairo is going to be long.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>uhhhhh this honestly almost killed me. sorry it took so long! </p>
<p>also, what nico missed while drunk and Thinking:</p>
<p>Oliver drunkenly makes a move on Alastair, who looks around the room for an excuse. He spots a woman who smiles at him and tells Oliver that he has made plans for the evening. He quickly excuses himself and introduces himself to the woman and he plans on telling her what's going on and asking her to play along. Instead she starts flirting with him and then, well, things escalate quickly.</p>
<p>a quick note on historical accuracy: i am generally trying to balance not being like, wildly historically inaccurate with not having to research too much because i am fairly lazy in some ways and far more invested in the emotional journey than i am in getting all of the historical stuff exactly right</p>
<p>and another note! so this whole thing was kind of born of an <a href="https://artimiscrock.tumblr.com/post/627951152168910848">ask box fic</a> that i sent to someone which is even messier than the fic in general but serves as a sort of prologue, so i figured i should link that!</p>
<p>I am very sad to be saying goodbye to Alastair, and much, much less sad to be saying goodbye to Oliver.</p>
<p>Hope yall enjoyed it! comments and critiques are always welcome! i'm also on tumblr with the same username, if you're interested</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>anyways i'm writing this because it genuinely will not leave me alone. also, i am very fond of joe and nicky but i think that not enough attention is paid to the fact that nicky was a literal crusader on the very, very wrong side of history and would have to do a lot to atone for that, so i want to explore how he does atone for that and how he goes from that man to being the good, kind one we see in canon. also, i don't want to make joe responsible for his education or his redemption, so i had to keep them apart to start with.</p><p>well.. thank u for reading! all comments and criticisms are welcome. extend me a bit of lenience with historical accuracy. i am trying to keep things pretty vague because i do not have the mental fortitude to do enough research for that. u can find me on tumblr at artimiscrock!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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